


Rewrite

by IrisClou



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, YOULL BE A DEAD SON OF A BITCH ILL TELL YOU THAT, also its just ... pretty noncon, eventually hopefully, if you like suffering this is the one for you, kakashi @ mizuki: BITCH I HOPE THE FUCK YOU DO, this was very unpleasant to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisClou/pseuds/IrisClou
Summary: In order for  them both to get closure on Mizuki's abusive relationship towards Iruka, the pair use their abilities as shinobi to relive the night Iruka needed Kakashi the most - the night he never came to his friend's rescue.They cant change the past. But they can try to rewrite those memories.[cowritten by rage]





	1. Chapter 1

"I can't,  _ I can't _ ...It's so hard," Iruka fought to keep his voice level, tears burning in his eyes. "It..hurts too much to think about it. About  _ him _ ."

  
  


“I thought...I was protecting the village,” Kakashi voiced quietly, his throat working as he struggled to speak. He couldn’t begin to unravel everything that he felt in that moment. All he could do was grip Iruka closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his clothing, as his voice dropped lower, softer, a whispered breath by Iruka’s ear. “... _ Protecting you _ .”

He heard Iruka sniffle, shoulders still trembling.

“I didn’t see what was going on right underneath my nose, right here in the village.” Kakashi’s tone turned bitter as he went on, brows furrowing.

Iruka just made a noise that sounded like a halfhearted scoff.

“You weren’t around that much,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not like you were able to abandon your missions just to watch over me.”

“I wish I had.”

The younger man went quiet at that. He knew how dedicated the other was to his duties as a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, and knew how intent he was on obeying. Kakashi  _ was _ willing to break rules of course, particularly when it came to his comrades. Even still, he hadn't expected the jōnin to say he would have forgone his missions for him. 

It wouldn't be the first time he'd break the rules for Iruka.

He remembered when he first looked out his window when he was just a young boy to see a lone silhouette sitting atop the rooftop across from him. Under the moonlight, he had made out a stark white mask, with red accents, facing him, a long scarf billowing in the breeze as the figure crouched like a waiting cat, facing him. The two holes for its eyes were nothing but shadows in the dim light, but he knew he was being watched intently. Iruka had taken a few moments to stare back at the stranger, a sense of wonder and unease washing over him at the same time.

He had heard of an elite team of shinobi that worked in the shadows known as the ANBU, that wore pale masks to conceal their identity.

At the time, he had no idea why one of its members was staring at him from the adjacent rooftop. Motionless and mysterious, just like he had imagined such a shinobi to be.

Once he had gotten over the initial alarm, deciding it wasn’t something he needed to go to his parents to in order to raise concern, not when the shinobi was just sitting there, the boy raised a hand to acknowledge the strange figure. They didn’t look that much older than he, as far as he could tell in their stature. He may have imagined it, but he thought he saw the mask tilt in a nod right before the stranger vanished.

Over the weeks, Iruka grew accustomed to the silent visitor. It was weird at first, when he’d look out his window and see them there, poised like a guardian statue in his direction. The stranger never stayed for long, usually just long enough to see him and for him to smile or wave before taking off as silently as they had arrived. He wasn’t sure why the shinobi paid him visits every so often, and he never got any sort of response out of the stranger, but there wasn’t any harm done, and so he let it be what it was.

A few months later, he had been expecting to see the dark figure turn up after more than a week gone by, but that night when he looked outside, there was no one to be found. He may have been a little worried, yet he knew the ANBU were particularly strong shinobi. Surely his visitor was alright. Iruka decided to leave his curtains and window to let the breeze in. The boy had been ready to get to bed, pulling the sheets on his bed back in order to crawl in. It had been a long day at the Academy, and as he neared becoming a genin, he had doubled his efforts in learning and training, determined to prove his mettle and make his parents proud.

  
  


Not long after that, he finally got to know just who was under that mask.

He didn't know much about the ANBU, but he knew their anonymity was a big deal. Looking back on it now, he understood just how much Kakashi trusted him.

  
  


“...Why did you join the ANBU?”

Kakashi 

“Minato-sensei requested I offer my abilities under his direct orders. 

"Of course you accepted," Iruka let out a knowing laugh, yet it sounded more tired than anything. He felt Kakashi's chest rumble with a hum at that, the vibration reverberating at his ear.

  
  


“What if things had been different? Where would we have been back then..where would we be now?” Iruka sounded small as he wondered aloud, wishing the universe had been in their favor. 

Kakashi was silent for a long moment, a thought panning out in his mind as he considered the chūnin's words.

"We can't change the past, but...we can find out, if you'd like," the man said after a minute, voice low.

Iruka moved back to look at him, furrowing his brows.

"Do you mean…?"

Kakashi just nodded. He knew Iruka would catch on without the need to elaborate.

Genjutsu.

Iruka seemed to contemplate the idea, brown eyes glancing away to stare down at his hands. He'd never thought about doing such a thing before. To live out a dream where things had been a little better.

"I...I want this," he eventually decided with a weak nod. "I want to know. Is that okay?" 

Kakashi gave him a soft smile.

"Of course." He hoped Iruka could tell that he wanted to know, too.

The older was silent as Iruka rubbed at his eyes, wiping his sleeve across his cheeks to dry the tears that had fallen. He felt Kakashi's fingers brush across his skin as he let go. Letting out a shaky sigh, the chūnin looked back up to meet Kakashi's patient gaze.

"Are you ready?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the ugly chapter. if youre...squeamish, just a heads up
> 
> irukas like... 16-17? mizukis like 19-20

Iruka closed his eyes, shoulders falling as he let himself go limp against Kakashi's strong form. 

"...No matter what happens…" There was the tiniest of whimpers tucked into that sigh, "I will still love you." 

Kakashi held his breath. 

A clone was quietly summoned, a despondent look on his face as he understood his purpose was to make the original suffer the greatest pain he'd ever felt. If only he could have eased that burden instead. 

Iruka turned shining eyes, not of happiness, but of pathetic hopelessness, to his friend. 

"When you stopped coming...I got sick of pretending to see your shadows in the night. I started making clones transform into you. But they were never right. They didn't make you hear what I had to say." His voice caught, fists curled tightly as his head bowed. "They barely kept me alive. I'd wind up crying so hard they'd dissipate and I'd fall asleep at the windowsill." 

The devil had already clawed Kakashi's heart to shreds, but now he was grinding the remnants into coal for the fire. 

"I don't blame you anymore. I'm too lonely...for that." He lifted a taut smile to his friend, openly weeping, voice grating against the flood of emotions. 

Kakashi didn't notice the salt on his own cheeks until the breeze made him shiver. 

So this...was penance. 

"Let me show you...when I gave up." Iruka whispered. 

-

[ **[touch your fire|arizona]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3R9V9Gr3ZhM)

"You haven't seen him for a while, right?' Mizuki's soft voice soothed Iruka as they snuggled close in bed, pale fingers running through thick brown locks. The boy leaned into the touch. 

"..." Something in him wanted to cry. Something told him he should feel a certain way, like the shadow of an emotion. But it never surfaced. Time had buried it years ago. He just shook his head, numb with an unfeeling confusion. 

"That's good." Mizuki lulled, pulling Iruka in close, kissing his temple. "You don't need him anymore. He was a childhood friend you grew out of." His kind green eyes smiled down at the boy.

Iruka jerked out of his stupor at the touch, his still heart twitching to life for a brief moment. The voice told him to fight back, to defend Kakashi's memory. But it was just too far away. 

Indifferent sienna eyes met Mizuki's. 

"I love you." He said almost robotically, but a good part of him believed in it. One of the few things he believed in anymore. 

But it was true. Only Mizuki made him feel _anything_ anymore. Love included, he supposed. 

Instead of how it was in the movies, or in the once favored books that had gathered dust in Iruka's room, Mizuki never said "I love you, too." 

He only ever said.

"I know." 

Their legs tangled under the sheets as Iruka let himself be pulled closer, his head hurting from earlier tears cried. He cuddled deep into those comforting arms, cologne flooding his senses. 

"Did you train today?" Mizuki stroked along the boy's back before his fingers slipped under his jaw, tilting it up. 

"No." Iruka said apathetically. He hadn't so much as lifted a finger in days. Whatever kept him alive, he did, but anything past that felt impossible. The only thing he did was keep the sink and bedsheets clean, and only at Mizuki's request. 

Even eating seemed like a chore nowadays. That alone should have ticked _someone_ off. He'd lost so much weight in the past six months, many people didn't recognize him when he went into town. 

"Good." Mizuki smiled sweetly, "You've already made chuunin. You've worked hard enough." 

Iruka wanted to strangle the voice that kept urging him to run, to argue. It was barely more than a whisper, a gnat in his ear. 

He simply nodded, instinctively pressing dry lips to Mizuki's slender neck, kissing up along the jawline. 

He was rewarded with a hushed purr of approval. 

"I missed you." Iruka admitted, his voice so hoarse from disuse. He pushed himself as close as he could to the inviting warmth, body aching deeply for it. He was nothing more than an abandoned pup, struggling to find shelter from the unforgiving world, blind and helpless and cold. 

Again, the phrase wasn't mirrored. 

"That's okay." Mizuki wrapped strong arms around the boy, kissing behind his ear, hands reaching down. "I'll make it better.'

Sick shivers ran up Iruka's spine, but he happily gave into the nausea. He knew the twisting in his guts would soon fade into a dizziness he begged for almost nightly. 

"I love you." Inflection broke through his monotone voice like a knife in his back, the kissing growing more intent, teeth grazing gaunt shoulders. This was the part he easily gave in to what his body wanted, not caring about dignity -- "so long as it's under the sheets' Mizuki would remind him. 

Iruka automatically reciprocated, a content hum in his throat as he ran his tongue along Mizuki's collarbone, bony fingers rubbing broad shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had his hair up. Mizuki liked it down, brushed out and wavy. 

Iruka took exceptional care of his face and hair for the man, spending uneasy hours in the mirror to make sure he looked…

Pretty...enough. 

The purrs turned into growls, but the boy never resisted to any touch, rough or otherwise, simply yielding his body to Mizuki's...needs.

They weren't desires, the man had convinced him of that. They were necessities. 

"Ah...ah!" Iruka's head fell back onto the pillow, whimpers dragged from his dry throat, Mizuki's fingers curled tightly around his hair, holding him down by it as he moved above him. 

"It's been too long, Iruka-kun." The pale hands rubbed needily along perfect tan skin, hiking up his shirt and tugging down loose sweats. "You're practically begging for it. How _dirty._ " He hissed. 

**[[wicked games|weeknd]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1OTWCd40bc) **

Hot tears stung the boy's eyes, but he only nodded guiltily. 

"Please...it...hurts…" He whined, hips shifting anxiously. 

"You know how ranks work." Mizuki's voice grew dark. 

Iruka's heart sank. No matter how many times he tried to imagine things going differently...he swallowed instinctively, a preemptive burning in his throat, ache in his jaw. 

It was simply a position he took. Nothing more. 

His knees had stopped bruising weeks ago. But the taste never went away. 

Already he could feel the excessive saliva well up in his mouth, feel it slip out the corners. Like a dog about to vomit. He swallowed involuntarily at it, but it only made it worse. 

Innocent sienna eyes gazed up from boyish features, wavy hair framing the rounded face, and the man's thighs framing _that._

"Shh…" Mizuki's lips curled into a half lidded grin. "You look so good tonight." 

Iruka simply gave him a sad look, a slight pout in his full lips. He hated this part. He was scared he'd grow so averted to it, that the man's belt that slid around his neck every so often would be used as a slip lead. 

"Now...be a good boy." Pale fingers caressed silky hair and a thumb pressed into the soft cheek. "Show me what chuunins should do for jonins." 

Iruka felt his stomach tighten, rolling his hips at the voice, lightheaded at the sight before him. 

His lips parted, eyes transfixed, breathing labored. 

He convinced himself he wanted it. 

Pain to pleasure. That's what Mizuki told him, every. Single. Time. 

"Yes, sir." The boy's voice cracked. His soft lips traced the man's inner thighs, worshipping every inch with kisses. He hesitated briefly, but knew he'd be punished for more than few seconds of doing so, and forced himself to push forward. 

The heady scent only made his eyelids heavier, hands like stones on either side of his chin. It was hypnotic, how repulsed and how eager he was, nuzzling Mizuki adoringly, lapping slowly at the now familiar charge. His soft slips slid sweetly over the crown, saving the heat of his tongue for later. 

A pleased, but impatient growl reached his ears, and with a dull panic, he felt his hair twisted up painfully and yanked forward. 

"Don't _savor_ it like a whore that has all night." Mizuki hissed, green eyes glowing like a snake's, rubbing Iruka's face against his cock, the boy wincing, but kissing at it fervently, a silent plea for mercy. "Don't you want _me_ to help _you?_ Respectable shinobi service their superiors before being rewarded." 

Iruka nodded, his hips already bucking slowly, grinding on nothing but the unforgiving air. If he even _dared_ try to touch himself, he'd probably be beaten within an inch of his life. But never the face. Had to keep that as innocent as possible. 

The boy buried his shattered pride, and started up his efforts again with fervor, tiny sighs and moans spilling from his lips, knowing this only worked Mizuki up more. False naiveté glanced up at the man, taking him in his mouth. 

[ **[or nah|weeknd]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DBFHZPsrgI)

Not enough. It felt like it drew blood, how Mizuki would yank his hair like nothing more than a human leash, and Iruka's eyes flew open at the cock suddenly being thrust down his throat. With a wave of sick, he could feel it almost harden instantly, pulsing thickly.

The boy's eyes rolled, body begging to gag, cough, _anything._ But if he did, he knew his chin would be so far in, it'd rest on the little indent of Mizuki's balls.

He just shuddered, back hunching, stomach tensing. His own length twitched, and he knew the game was up. 

"Stop fuckin' around. Show me how bad it hurts, baby." 

Iruka hastily got into the rhythm of sucking the man's cock, head tilting as he worked over it again and again, every time he managed to reach the base, the sole of Mizuki's foot brushed his aching length - a fleeting hint of pleasure in the sea of pain in the back of his throat. 

Despite every effort to hold back, the tears came, burning his squeezed shut eyes, drooling and nose running within a couple minutes. He knew this only spurred Mizuki on, a strangled moan silenced as the worst came. 

The pale hands that stroked him so sweetly, held him close when he cried, reassured him...were now gripping the sides of his head, nails digging into his soft skin. 

Iruka was graciously given half a second to hold his breath before his nose was smashed up against the silky silver hair between Mizuki's hips, his throat on fire with every thrust. All he could do was let his jaw go slack and pray for the man to cum soon, he was so scared he'd never be able to speak again, after the one time he tasted blood for a day afterwards. 

It hurt so bad. 

And he broke quietly, like a child, head tilting as the tears and drool streamed down his face. 

He hadn't eaten anything all day, just to make sure he didn't throw up. But his stomach still heaved with each deep thrust. He was prey resigned to never leaving the jaws of his hunter. 

Just as Iruka thought he'd keel over, it was torn from his throat, slapped up against his dazed face, barely aware of the cum staining his rosy round cheeks, before the head lay twitching on his bottom lip. He instinctively lapped at it, eyes still unfocused in the pain induced stupor. 

"...fuck...Iruka...you're so much better than her…" Mizuki gasped, but the boy heard nothing. His ears were ringing. 

Even the gentle caressing and fingers threading through his hair weren't enough to pull him out of it. All he was aware of was his ragged breathing and aching length. 

_Love was a lie._

Marriage was fake, and there was no such thing as devotion. 

There was only Iruka on his numb knees at the bedside, and his caretaker's thighs to his cheeks. 

-

Even for him, it became motion sickness. Just as he felt the wave of relief rush through his belly, hips bucking like a lamb with nothing to breed, the strain took its toll. His knees buckled and his body went slack, foamy bile in the back of his throat. 

He soon found himself cradled up in Mizuki's arms, petted and cooed at, but the sounds fell on deaf ears. Everything hurt and he was barely aware of where he was. And yet, he cuddled into the thing that hurt him so terribly just minutes before. It was warm, and soft. It kept him alive, even when he didn't want to be. 

_He missed his mother._

-

[ **[ibizia | mike posner]** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41GZVVcxQps)

Iruka could feel Kakashi's presence, moreover his chakra. It was a starlike heat, even though he was hidden outside the window of the room.

_Not yet. There's more._

But before he could live out the rest of the year of hell he'd endured, Kakashi had seen enough. 

The breaking point was watching Iruka's limp and weakly protesting form being used as nothing more than a doll, Mizuki above him, emerald eyes gleaming, knowing the boy had no energy left to raise an arm to protect himself from the hips that rocked into his chest, the cock that pushed past chewed, dry lips and into his parched mouth. 

The breaking point was seeing the tears fall without expression. It was the look of a child who had retreated into himself, unable to face reality any longer. There was a blindness in those once bright hazel eyes. A dull cataract of indifferent misery. 

The look of death, a sight Kakashi was all too familiar with. 


End file.
